This morning, I thought I'd write a short piece about Canada Day. It was yesterday, and thoughts are still fresh in my mind about what it all means and the problematic nature of essentially colonial nations celebrating that colonization while at the same time wanting to be thankful and proud of what the country is, and where we are in the scheme of the global community, etc. etc.
But that is not the post I'll be writing today.
Mostly because I'm way too distracted with another thought, which is writing and when to give yourself a break. Lots of ink (and virtual ink) has been expended exploring...
Feeling quite unwell, and what with the sudden heat of the day, writing progress has sloughed off and died on the carpet. So, rather than finish watching “The Breakfast Club” in a thousand little clips as feel extremely sorry for myself and puddle, I have decided to tend to my much neglected blog. And it is neglected, forgive me Blog gods (there ought to be a law, perhaps written down to keep wayward bloggers in line; a blog god law log).
I’ve also been re-watching Arrested Development (hat tip to Bob Loblaw).
There’s been lots of great writing news since I last logged in. I had a short story pu...
September began, and I almost didn't notice. This has always been my favourite time of year, cool and little lonesome. Not quite as lonesome as January, but now is that odd time of two winds. In a upper middle-grade/YA book I'm working on, I've written about it thus:
"In the Fall, there are two sorts of wind. The first is a solemn kind that moves about with a mournful little howl, and dolefully flicks leaves into the air. It sighs over the loss of the flowers, and gives no heed to the sudden fiery beauty of the trees or the crisp spice of ground-bound moldering apples filling the air. T...
#1: Babysitter (Clubs to which were in shockingly limited supply)
#2: Clerk at mystical things store (We didn’t have Mogwai, or frogurt)
#3: Beachfront Lifeguard (At a cove that could be filled and half-way drained with the tide. Also spent a lot of time lying to people saying that there weren't any eels. There were. Lots. They were huge. One as long as my leg. I called him Eeylop).
#4: ESL Teacher in Slovenia/Bat Counter in abandoned Medieval castle (Two different gigs, same summer/employer. Don’t ask)
#5: Tour Guide at semi-haunted mansion/barn on remote island...
An old friend of mine died at the very end of June. I'd say passed away, but that implies a quiet ending or in the very least an anticipated one. This was not that sort of death, and it has taken a while to process.
I first met Ryan Jimmo in Saint John, NB at a karate tournament. My step-father was the Sensei the dojo to which I belonged, and was a coach for team New Brunswick. I had been in martial arts since six, but I didn't enter a ring until I was fourteen; I didn't think I would be good enough.
I didn't go to the first tournament of the season that year, but I went with my step-fathe...
I’ve got a new story published with CBAY books, “Bread and Bones” in the Giants and Ogres anthology. It was actually out two weeks ago, but between sick pets, a stream of visiting family, and a minor incident involving a toaster I forgot to post here, and made the announcement only on the old Twittersphere.
I'm pretty proud of this one - first PAID publication. I'd make it rain (drizzle, at least) but I had to buy food. I'll invoke old rain gods for the next one . . . I suppose I could still toss some baby spinach in the air, but it seems like a terrible waste.
Sending out queries feels like this when you start up the email.
And this when your done.
It's a full-spectrum emotional ride.
Famously, Stephen King had a nail on the wall where he put all of his rejections while trying to get published early on; he ran out of room on the nail. I don't have a nail, nor do I have paper copies of rejections (most things operating as they do on the onlines), but some days I consider printing them off.
No, not to ritualistically spike.
No, not to ritualistically burn.
Or paste sadly on a table-top.
No rituals. Just to put them in a folder. And then quietly f...
(And how many of you read that in Prof. Farnsworth's voice? We could probably be friends. Or high-five buddies, I don't want to rush things.)
I've been living in DC for a little over six months; I've been in the States for over a year. However, due to a Series of Fortunate events, we are going to be moving again - this time to the beautiful Montreal.
Part of me is a little miffed, because it was an increibly long schlog to get my Green Card.
(Shhhh, I say to all who begin to say Huh huh, it's not hard. In the movies --